Leather jacket
by merlinaes
Summary: Surely during a zombie apocalypse there would be more important things than a lost jacket, right? Well, not for Hermione Granger. Rated M for language. One-shot.


**Hello, readers! If you stumbled upon this, then here are some warnings for you: First, this is my first harmony. Ever. In fact I initially wrote it with original characters and then ¿? idk they just fitted so nicely and they're not even my otp. Second, there is no context at all for this. No background anywhere. But if you have a question I'll be happy to answer it, just make sure your review is signed. Third, English is not my first language, Spanish is, so if I've made a mistake kindly inform me and I'll make my best to correct it. And finally, this is complete sillyness, ok? And a one-shot, and a short one for that matter. So, yes, there you go.**

 **I think that would be all so - Wait! JKR is the real owner here, I'm just borrowing the names and all that jazz. Happy reading!**

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"A… jacket," He repeats slowly, as if trying to digest the word so he can finally understand what his captain is asking of him. "Hermione, do you really deem necessary to risk your entire team in a semi suicide mission only to take back your favourite leather jacket?" Harry was surprised. Yes, his captain and also best friend _did_ look a little incomplete – and even vulnerable if he may say so – without it, but he didn't think it was worth the risk. It _was_ a leather jacket after all.

"Jamie." She cuts him. Yes, his full name is Harry James Potter and that tiny brunette was determined to call him only by his middle – and very much unused – name. "It's what makes me captain of this team and if we have to get out there and risk our arses in front of a bunch of zombies to get it back, then so be it." She replies curtly with utter determination shadowing her face and the only thing left for him to do is to sigh loudly.

Hermione Granger had changed a lot since the zombie apocalypse happened. He couldn't blame her, though, she _had_ lost her entire family because of it and now Harry was the only thing left for her. Besides their team, or the _elite_ as she so very much enjoys calling them. Let's see, Harry and Hermione had been best friends for the longest time. The only thing they know for certain is that they have been there for each other since longer than they care to recall. And that is more than they could ever wish for.

However, the bloody apocalypse had fucked their lives upside down. They were seventeen when the first zombie was discovered, and it's been four long years since then. In that complete mess, they managed to find a walled city and, even if it wasn't much, it was _safe_ so they made it their duty to help in every way they could. Today they are both twenty one years old and incredibly popular in the city; after all, Hermione _was_ the captain of the Elite Squad, which had two very important missions: to look for resources and rescue the few people who had managed to find a safe haven until the Elite Squad got to them. Alas, there has been fewer and fewer people to rescue those days, but there was a lot of zombie brains to blow up.

Despite everything, they do try to have as much fun as they can. The entire Elite Squad had spent their entire childhood playing war videogames and Hermione chose them for that reason. If you start thinking that you are killing people with their own families and stories, people who had a past, a life and, most importantly, a _future_ you'll have a breakdown in the middle of a horde of groaning and moaning corpses that can fucking walk, and that is something Hermione can't and won't stand. According to her you can be vulnerable, but only inside of the fort. Outside, nothing can touch you. That's what she does. Once she steps out of The Wall, she builds another one between her emotions and her actions. Part of her shield is her leather jacket as she doesn't leave the community without it. Ever. But, when she gets back, bloodied and with chunks of _something_ -she-doesn't-even-want-to-think-about hanging from her hair, she takes it off, cleans it and folds it till the next time. She says it's because, wearing it, if she were to be bitten the team could recognize her easily and shoot her before she kills anyone else. Harry doesn't believe her entirely. He knows Hermione would sooner slit her own throat before turning into a fucking zombie. He knows, too, that the jacket was her father's and that Hermione uses it Outside to feel accompanied by her deceased family.

"Earth calling to Potter." Harry returns to reality and trains his eyes in his tiny friend. His eyes take in her face, from her walnut brown hair, through her glinting brown eyes to her pouty mouth and smiles. She is certainly a bit harsh and bossy, but she's _alive_ and with so much death around them her spark is a blessing. Also, she has been the only constant in his life and, for that, Harry is eternally grateful. Maybe things won't turn out so bad, he muses.

"I'm here, Granger, don't fret," He gives her a lopsided smile and drapes an arm over her slim shoulders. His best friend. His captain. "Let's go kick some dead arses a get your jacket back. Can't wait." Hermione rolls her eyes and elbows him halfheartedly but then she removes herself from the embrace and, taking two fingers to her mouth, whistles loudly. In less than two full minutes, the whole Elite Squad is standing before them, armed and with serious expressions adorning their faces.

" _Elite_ , we've got a simple and quick mission today. The thing is we have to get back to the zombie infested place we raided yesterday. My leather jacket is out there and I won't let it there for a bloody zombie to try it on and feel like a goddamn diva, understood?" A lot of them nod, while the others snicker but cheer loudly. "So, are you ready to risk your lives over a fucking jacket and blow some putrid brains up?"

The cheers are louder now, followed by some howls and the sound of loading guns. God fucking damn it all, it was stupid and they would probably die because it was _stupid_ and reckless and not thoroughly thought but, according with the level of response and the animated faces of the rest of the team, Harry had no other choice than to sigh and load his own guns. Hermione Granger was a natural leader, that much was clear, as she could motivate an entire team to walk through _literal hell_ and they'd be happy to do it because it made her smile that pretty smile of hers.

And, being completely honest with himself, Harry would do it on his own too. Singing to a fucking Beatles song too if it meant she would light up his fucked up world with a private smile just for him.


End file.
